Chapter 55

An isolated mountain lodge, a complete mess of dismembered body parts and a pentagram drawn in blood. A government employee standing inside it with a butcher knife, facing a woman who had fainted again. And me, watching the whole scene from the second-floor railing.

It was an insane scene for a living room, enough to make anyone pass out if they didn't know it was fake.

But the lodge keeper who appeared through the back door was courteous.

“Have you enjoyed a comfortable stay?”

Not a chance.

But there was no point wasting my energy, so I simply stood still.

The lodge keeper didn't bother with any obvious excuses about having stepped out so we could relax undisturbed. He simply said,

“Three days have passed. The time has come.”

“...”

“You may now exchange your cassette tapes for the inheritance here at this lodge.”

What if no one had died by this point? This was where everything went to hell as people started killing one another.

It was inevitable.

Only after enough fear and shock at the prospect of death had accumulated would the cassette tapes release the survivors.

'That's why I manufactured it.'

The fear and shock, that is.

It didn't sit well with my modern sensibilities, but I'd frightened them enough to make them believe they were really going to die.

Apparently, those antics had earned a passing grade, judging by the lodge keeper delivering his scripted lines and the living room remaining peaceful, with no stabbings.

Of course, that peace was about to shatter.

Because the first person the lodge keeper approached was the “wife” lying unconscious on the sofa.

“Honored guest.”

“...”

“Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?”

“Mmm, what... Uh, uhhh!? Aaaaaaah!!”

The woman regained consciousness and ran out of the lodge, falling several times along the way.

Oh dear.

'She would've been better off staying unconscious.'

The lodge keeper turned away without hesitation and addressed the next person.

“Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?”

“...”

The government employee stared at the lodge keeper before slowly speaking.

“I'll give you my answer last.”

“Understood. In that case...”

The lodge keeper turned toward the last person.

Me.

I looked back at him, this figure from a ghost story whose refined Seoul speech contrasted with his shabby, threadbare clothes.

“Would you like to exchange your cassette tapes?”

Would I?

“Yes.”

Of course I would.

'I've spent the past three days working like a slave on a shrimp boat for this.'

If an entrant survives, they can receive the substantial financial reward promised to them.

I'd done it for the moment those words became reality.

The reason I'd gone so far as to play a serial killer was precisely this...

'First priority for the exchange.'

I pulled the cassette tapes out of the backpack I'd brought along, which belonged to one of the college students.

The couple's tapes.

The college students' tapes.

And Baek Saheon's, too.

“Six tapes. You have absolute priority in the exchange, honored guest.”

An oddly excited air briefly came over the lodge keeper before vanishing as though it had never existed, leaving him courteous once more.

“You may now become the owner of this lodge. Would you like to do so?”

“No.”

“...”

If an entrant who has carried out the serial killings chooses the disaster site (Horizon Lodge) as their reward, their altered disposition becomes permanently fixed.

I'd only imitated the serial killings, but there was no need to take that risk.

'Of course, that doesn't mean I can just exchange them for anything or refuse and call it a day.'

Whether you exchanged them for gold or garbage, refused the exchange and fled, or even set the lodge on fire and watched until it burned to the ground, the serial killer's possessions would be distributed again in the next cycle as though nothing had happened, drawing people to this place.

The lodge would appear miraculously intact, and the tragedy would repeat.

Besides...

'... I think there was probably a mechanic that kills everyone I've hidden away and pretended to murder the moment I choose my exchange.'

There was this record, you see.

* * *

#6

Personnel: 8 requisitioned civilians, 1 administrative officer (Grade 8).

The administrative officer was successfully designated the serial killer, but made an independent decision to use a special item for the third murder instead of the poison issued in advance.

Attempted to conclude the disaster without killing the requisitioned civilian by inducing a state of suspended animation close to death.

Result: 1 administrative officer survived (exchange refused).

※ Confirmed that the entrant in suspended animation died after the exchange ceremony when vomit lodged in their throat.

* * *

A fire could break out, for instance, and they might happen to be unable to escape because I'd locked them up.

And just like that, I'd become a real serial killer.

'Even if they're people who were supposed to die in this ghost-story universe, I can't help feeling uneasy...'

Let's respect my human sensibilities.

So, after weighing everything, this was the choice I made.

“I'd like to exchange one cassette tape for the rights to your employment.”

The lodge keeper fell silent for a moment, as though surprised.

“You mean my employment contract?”

“Yes.”

I nodded.

Did you know?

As a rule, the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau aimed to eliminate ghost stories whenever possible.

Its goal was emphatically not to carefully preserve and manage them while its employees merely escaped, like the insane pharmaceutical company I worked for.

Ghost stories might be a source of raw materials for Daydream Inc., but to the government, they were simply disasters.

So, true to the wiki's collaborative nature, quite a few contributors wrote stories reflecting that.

In other words, ghost stories managed by the government sometimes... “successfully disappeared.”

The lodge keeper announced that this exchange had concluded the term of his contract.

The site of the lodge became an empty clearing. No signs of supernatural activity have been observed to date.

Disaster concluded.

That was the official final exploration record for this ghost story.

In other words, this was a ghost story whose narrative had a full stop, whose events could be brought to an end.

In that case...

'Why don't I end it myself instead of letting it run a few more times?'

Like this.

“Since you're working here, I assume you still have time remaining on your contract with the previous owner. I'd like that transferred to me.”

I wouldn't take the lodge.

But what if I acquired the rights to the lodge keeper's employment and ended his contract, recreating the exact circumstances of the final exploration record?

“...”

I waited for the lodge keeper's answer. And...

“In theory... it is possible.”

That's right.

“However, if I may be so bold, my employer must possess certain qualifications.”

“Qualifications?”

“Yes.”

A faint, elusive arrogance slipped into the lodge keeper's courteous speech before disappearing.

“Nobility of birth and being is required.”

For someone who put him in charge of a murder lodge?

His ethical standards seemed pretty far removed from those of an ordinary modern person...

-Ha ha! This laborer in a little mountain lodge is behaving like an eighteenth-century butler who mistakes his master's power for his own!

-Let's simply take the lodge and fire him!

Braun... I'm going to all this trouble to avoid doing that.

'Hold on a moment. I think there's another way.'

-You have such patience, Mr. Roe Deer!

Yes, yes.

I gave a perfunctory reply and rubbed my chin.

'... Nobility, huh.'

Actually, something did come to mind.

It was true I hadn't brought my items, but there was exactly one thing I always kept in my pocket because it was so small.

'My merchandise.'

The Silver Heart Badge, the latest thing to pop out of the merchandise box, rattled in my hand.

An item that gave good people more say when they wore it.

'I needed to test it anyway.'

Carefully manipulating the little silver badge with one hand, I opened its pin inside my pocket.

Then I “equipped” it by pinning it to the fabric inside, but...

“...”

“...”

The other party showed no particular reaction.

'Ah.'

Was it a question of whom it affected?

'He wouldn't be human.'

The wearer inspires awe in others in proportion to their accumulated altruistic actions.

Well, I'd had questions about his definition of nobility anyway. I'd only been testing it out.

I quickly changed tack.

In that case...

“Are you saying I lack nobility of birth and being?”

I'd have to talk my way through.

“It is exceedingly difficult to find someone who possesses it, so I hope you will not take it to heart.”

“No. That's not what matters. So you're saying the exchange isn't possible? Because I'm not qualified?”

“Correct.”

“I'm having trouble understanding that.”

I deliberately frowned, like a customer making a complaint.

“Wasn't the condition clearly, 'Bring a cassette tape, and I'll let you exchange it for anything I own'? I'm rather taken aback by this sudden change in terms.”

I deliberately let out a weary sigh.

“Three days. That's how much time I've spent here. And now, right at the end, you're contradicting that promise by telling me I need qualifications.”

The lodge keeper seemed slightly flustered.

“There appears to be a misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding?”

“The promise remains unchanged. I merely mean that if you inherit only the rights to my employment, you will have difficulty actually employing me as a servant.”

The lodge keeper kindly explained.

“If you receive the lodge itself, I shall continue working here under the existing contract. But if you receive the 'employment rights,' you may exercise them only when those rights are applicable.”

In short: “Yep. I'll only work under the original contract. I'm not going to listen to you.”

“You mean it could end up being a contract that exists only on paper? One I can't actually use?”

“Precisely.”

Wow.

“That's fine.”

“...”

That's even better!

Nullification!

“Then I can make the exchange as long as I understand that. If I want to go through with it despite knowing, you have no grounds to stop me.”

“... In that case.”

The lodge keeper held out both hands.

“You are correct, honored guest.”

He'd conceded.

“Please place the cassette tapes you wish to exchange in my hands.”

You bet.

I quickly held out the tapes I'd been clutching.

CLACK, CLACK, CLACK.

Six tapes left my hands and dropped into the lodge keeper's rough palms.

The lodge keeper smoothly tucked the tapes into his shabby clothes.

Then he tidied his worn sleeves with decorum and drew out a thin, old object from within.

It was paper.

The material was East Asian, resembling Korean hanji paper, but oddly, it had been cut in a Western style, rolled up, and sealed with red wax.

“The original copy of my contract.”

The moment I took it, the old paper burst into flame.

“...!”

The paper burned scarlet, leaving only sparks that rose into the air.

Then they wound around my wrist.

Right where the theme park mascot's tattoo was!

'W-wait.'

: Socius :

The tattoo took on color as though heating up.

The sparks collided with it, almost as if wrestling, before finally bouncing away as though conceding defeat.

Then they moved toward my forearm and naturally settled into a vertical line.

: Benefactor :

“...”

Now I had two tattoos.

'This isn't what I wanted.'

I'd intended to keep the physical contract like an item.

It felt oddly bound to me... though this was admittedly better for portability.

-'Benefactor,' is it? Another old-fashioned expression.

Braun didn't say anything troubling about it being ominous, either.

Based on the previous instance, the government employee wouldn't be able to see this tattoo anyway, so that was fine too.

All the better if it looked as though the contract had vanished into thin air.

'Not like I'm going to summon him anyway.'

I looked up.

As expected, the lodge keeper had vanished without a trace.

All that remained was a blood-soaked lodge straight out of a horror film.

And me and the government employee standing inside it.

'That's everything wrapped up.'

Ridiculously enough, at that very moment, soft light began streaming through the windows.

Sunlight.

“The weather's cleared up.”

“...”

There. Everything was settled.

The mood was good. It would be perfect if I disappeared now and the government employee went his own way.

The government could handle identifying the people tied up unconscious in the basement.

'Since the ghost story itself is gone, I probably won't be registered as someone to track down or have my personal details recorded at length.'

Government agencies and corporations alike rarely devoted much effort to closed cases that didn't need follow-up.

'Even if this goes down as a slightly unusual case, I didn't kill anyone, so I should be fine.'

As long as I handled the government employee properly and came up with a good excuse, this would all blow over—

“You.”

The government employee came upstairs.

Then he strode over, grabbed my arm, and asked in all seriousness,

“Have you considered changing jobs?”

Pardon?